


The Incident

by orphan_account



Series: Boss [9]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Embarrassment, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Non-Graphic Violence, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The reader is attacked by an inmate (not seriously of course, shaken at best, bruised and a small cut at worst) and Doctor Chilton demands to see you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Assault

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Tags will be added as I add to the story.

You watched from your seat behind the reception desk as Dr. Chilton spoke to an orderly. You tried not to stare, but you kept throwing glances his way, but Chilton never looked back or caught your eye.

It had been months since that first encounter and since then, you and he have had more than just one rendezvous. You had become a way for him to blow off steam or sometimes to just satisfy his needs. If he was horny or stressed or angry, which could range from once a week to multiple times a day, he would contact you and get you to come to his office. There was never an issue of anyone noticing, either, because Chilton always made sure his secretaries were out when you came up, and since you were a receptionist, he could just call you at the desk and you could just pretend that it's some business call. Sometimes he called you for a quickie between therapy sessions and sometimes for a long and rough go at it during lunch breaks. He always liked to dominate you; cover your mouth with his hand, pull your hair, bite your chest, tie you up, order you around. He started to avoid doing anything rough to the neck and face when he realized that this didn't seem to be a temporary thing. He couldn't have you coming in with visible hickeys or bruises.

As strange as it was, you enjoyed your 'meetings'. And you didn't mind being rough and, though he was selfish and only cared about himself, at least you always finished. He was narcissistic and loved control, and seeing you orgasm only made him feel even more superior to you, since it was because of him that you were coming in the first place. You let him have this idea of power over you but truthfully, you had stopped being scared of him some time between your third and fourth go round. But you let him think he controlled you because you could tell his ego was a delicate thing.

He didn't know much about you at all, and you didn't know much about him. But neither of you needed to because you had an unspoken arrangement to keep things physical and secret. It didn't even feel right to call him a fuck buddy because you weren't friends otherwise, and saying that you were 'sleeping with your boss' implied that you had something to gain from it, when in reality, he didn't treat you any different than before. Or in other words, he kept flat-out ignoring you, except for the occasional sideways glance. 

When Chilton finished his conversation with the orderly, he left, catching your eye and winking as he went. The orderly, Frank, had an irritated expression on his face, which was not uncommon whenever Chilton spoke to a staff member. 

As soon as Chilton disappeared around the corner, Frank approached you. "Hey," he greets.

You smile. "Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing, but uh, could you do me a favour?" he asks. "Chilton just gave me this file to bring down to the infirmary, but my lunch break started like five minutes ago and I'm supposed to meet my girlfriend. Could you do that for me?"

You frown. "I mean, I've never been down there before," you say.

"Oh, it's nothing, really! The same as any other hospital," he assures. When you don't seem convinced, he continues. "Look, any inmates down there will be chained to the beds. I'm already late, could you please just do this?"

You roll your eyes. "Fine," you say. Frank thanks you, lets you know who to give the file to, and promptly leaves the lobby.

Usually, doing tasks and favours like this wasn't an issue for you, but you had never actually been in the same room as an inmate before. Of course, you had seen them from afar, but you were a receptionist, and receptionists don't deal with inmates. Frank didn't give you much of a protocol, but you decide you will just get in there, hand the psychiatrist in the infirmary the file, and leave. Not much to it. 

You go down to the infirmary and stop as soon as you enter. Looking around, all you see is white and silver. There are security guards standing in corners and nurses walking around, each with taser at their waist. You can safely assume this amount of security is due to the the violent murder of a nurse by Abel Gideon two years ago. As you walk towards the part of the infirmary you need to go, you pass an unconscious inmate. His hands are twitching and his heart rate monitor is acting strange. You look around for a nurse and, seeing none around, being to inch closer to the inmate. You are worried he might be about to have some serious medical emergency. Once you are near the bed, you hear the voice of a security guard.

"Get away from there!"

You turn to look over your shoulder at the guard approaching you and let out a gasp when you feel someone grab you. You drop the files as you turn, wide eyed, to see the inmate holding onto your wrist and digging his nails into your wrist. "Why, aren't you a fresh face," he sneers, twisting your arm. "Not many of those around here." You wince, sucking in a sharp breath as he yanks and twists your arm around as his nails continue to scratch you. You twist your body and try to pull away from him, but his grip is too strong and you lose your balance, your feet slipping on the shiny tile floors.

Thankfully, it doesn't last long. The guard started sprinting towards you the moment the inmate got hold of your arm. He got him off you and another grabbed and steadied you. A nurse was at your side as soon as she saw what happened, too. She put her hand on your back to guide you away from the inmate quickly.

"What are you doing up here?" she asks you once the inmate is steadied. 

"I-I needed to drop those files to Dr. Zillman," you stammer, pointing the scattered files.

"I'll get them to him," she says. "But don't you know you aren't supposed to go near the inmates unless you're a hundred percent sure he won't attack you?"

You shake your head and explain the situation, which makes the nurse moan. "Frank's a fucking moron," she grumbles, taking your arm in her hand and inspecting it. "Your arm is fine. Just expect to be sore for a few days, so just take Tylenol for the pain," she said after a moment. "You'll be waking up with bruises."

You frown and retract your arm. "Thanks," you say. "I guess I should get back downstairs, then."

The nurse looks at you, concerned. "Why don't you have a seat?" 

You shake your head. "No, it's fine-"

"But you're shaking."

"No, please," you say, "I'm fine, I'm okay." You don't want to sound like you're pleading with her and you don't want to seem like you just don't want to listen to her advice, but the prospect of being in the same room as the inmates is much more terrifying to you now than it had been two minutes earlier. 

"Okay, I won't make you stay," the nurse says calmly, seeming to understand your distress. "But I must insist you go home. Even take tomorrow off if you need to. "

You want to argue that you're feeling fine, but you know that you're going to have trouble concentrating on work so you agree. The nurse said she would let a supervisor know what happened and they'll call in another receptionist. You go downstairs, gather your things, and drive home. 

On the drive back to your apartment, images of the inmate's face kept flashing through your mind and his voice ringed in your ears. You shudder when you think about what would have happened if the guards weren't there. You cannot imagine how terrified the nurse Gideon killed must have been, to be completely alone and attacked so brutally. You were lucky that you weren't badly hurt, but you still feel your stomach churning. 

You walk into your apartment, tears streaming down your face and try to calm yourself down, but you can't stop shaking. You change into your PJs, make some tea and curl up on the sofa with a blanket. You wish you could be strong about this, but you can't stop thinking about what would have happened if the security guards weren't there. There is no way you could have gotten out of the grip the inmate had on you. 

Hours pass of you looking at the TV but not paying attention and you eventually fall asleep, only to be woken up at four in the morning to a particularly loud commercial. You groan, turn off the TV and drag your feet to the bedroom. You call in sick the next day, but by then, everyone at the hospital had known what happened. 

 _Just what I needed_ , you think bitterly as you make yourself coffee.  _Well, at least I wasn't shot in the face._


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, school is starting! Oh, I don't know how much I'll be able to write! Oh no!"  
> Well, aren't I full of baloney. Enjoy the read <3

When you had woken up the morning after the assault, the inmate’s face had been the first thing to pop into your mind. Not that it ever really left your mind, since you had dreamt about being attacked all night. You wanted to slap yourself, say that it was nothing, but you couldn’t help feeling scared to go back to the hospital. Never had you been in a situation where you feared for your life. And though fearing for your life was unreasonable considering the security guards and the fact that the inmate had been cuffed to the hospital bed, you still couldn’t stop hearing the security guard screaming at you to get away from him, or the way the inmate had snarled at you.

The first thing you had done that morning was call in sick. “I’m sorry, but I can’t come into work today,” you had said, feigning a stuffy nose by sniffing and making your voice sound thick. Before you had had a chance to explain, the supervisor spoke up.

“That is absolutely not a problem, I already let another receptionist know that we may need them to come in,” said your supervisor. “You should stay home for as long as you need.”

You frowned. “Well, I’m just sick, you know…” you said, but you knew that the supervisor knew. You wonder who else knew. Word travels fast, even in a hospital for the criminally insane, and whenever something like this happens, people tend to talk about it. _Did you hear about the regular receptionist? Got attacked by an inmate! Poor thing! Shouldn't have gone near that bed… Do you think she'll ever be back?_

You spend the day doing as many relaxing as you can: applying a face mask, taking a bubble bath, doing yoga, watching the cooking channel, baking cupcakes, listening to slow songs… And eventually, you calm down. The anxiety you had felt had drained out from your body and you were certain that it would stay that way when you got behind your desk tomorrow morning. And you were determined to go back tomorrow. There was no way you are going to let this affect your job. You wanted to be strong and you have to go back because you're afraid that if you stay at home for too long, you will never return to the BSH.

Your arm has scratches and bruises, as well as a pulled muscle, but it felt much better by the end of the day. Even still, you could not stop poking at the dark spots and flexing the muscles. It kind of helped to keep looking and touching the injury because then it reminded you that you were okay, that the attack (which you didn't really like to refer to as an attack) was over and that you had nothing to worry about anymore.

And in the back of your mind, you wonder how much Chilton knows about what happened. You wonder how he feels about it, if he even cares at all. You try not to think about it too much, but you can't help it. You know that at this point, if he were to get hurt, you would be very upset by the news, but you can't imagine why he would be fazed about you having a sore arm.

 

* * *

 

Frederick impatiently paces back and forth in his office, clenching and unclenching his fists. There is a heat balled up in his chest and it is radiating all the way throughout his body, to his fingertips, to the heels of his feet, to his eyes. Though seeing red was not new to him, it feels new because he never would have though he’d be as angry as he was about something like this. Or really anything that didn’t involve Hannibal Lecter. But now he feels an absolute rage boiling inside of him over what had happened yesterday.

His phone rings. The secretary lets him know that Frank, the orderly he had asked to see, was here. “Send him in,” says Frederick, taking a seat in his desk.

Moments later, Frank enters, confusion written clearly across his face. Frederick takes a deep breath, pushes down the anger that was ready to burst from inside him and gestures for him to have a seat. Frederick leans back in his chair, looking calmly at the visibly uncomfortable orderly sitting across from him.

“The receptionist downstairs,” says Frederick after a moment. “Do you know her?”

Frank sinks slightly in his chair, starting to understand why he had been called to the office. “Yes, doctor. I do.”

“And you know that she is not at work today, correct?”

Frank nods.

“Would you mind telling me why that is?” asks Frederick. He knows the answer, he had heard it through multiple employees.

Frank knows he knows as well, but he explains anyway. He tells the doctor about how he had asked you to bring the files he was given to Dr. Zillman. He leaves out your reluctance and says you didn’t mind or hesitate when he asked you for help. Throughout his explanation, Frederick’s expression remained the same. He watches the orderly with a neutral expression on his face, not giving away any thoughts he may have. When the story was finished, Frederick purses his lips and leans forward with his hands folded on his desk. “I think it goes without saying,” he says calmly and quietly, “That you are fired.”

A look of utter panic envelops Frank’s face. “What!?” he says, dumbfounded. “Sir, I’ll admit that I made a mistake, but I don’t see why I should lose my job over this!”

“It’s not just that this happened, Frank,” says Frederick. “Even if she hadn’t been hurt, it was _your_ job to get the files to Dr. Zillman. It was a task specifically given to _you,_ not _her,_ and it was not even a difficult task. There was absolutely no reason why you would have found it necessary to hand the job over to a receptionist other than utter laziness. And I can’t very well have lazy people working in my hospital.”

“Okay, but I can learn from this, sir-”

“No, you cannot,” interrupts Frederick. “Because this is not the first time you’ve been lazy. You are constantly late to work, you don’t complete tasks to the extent that they should, you spend more time participating in idle chitchat than actually working, and you just endangered the life of an employee.”

“Well, she should’ve known not to go near the inmates!” Frank blurts out defensively.

“Oh, she should have?” Spits Frederick, “Did you give her a protocol on how to behave?”

“No, but-”

“Then how would she have known that?” yells Frederick suddenly, causing the orderly to flinch in surprise. “She’s a receptionist! Her job is to greet visitors, send faxes and answer the _fucking phone!_ She does not talk to the inmates, she does not interact with the inmates, she does not serve the inmates, she doesn’t even _look_ at the inmates! What would make you think that she knew the rules when around them!?”

Frank stared wide-eyed at the administrator, clearly taken aback by his burst of anger. “Sir,” he mutters, shaking he head, “It’s just a twist of the arm. I really don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”

Frederick clenches his fists and his nostrils flare. “Oh, really?” he growls through gritted teeth. “Do you not know what Abel Gideon did to a nurse in that very same infirmary no more than two years ago? Do you think I am willing to let something like that happen again?”

The orderly gulps at the threatening low tone of voice Frederick is using. “But sir,” he pleads, “Nothing happened-”

Frederick leaned in close. “And nothing will,” he says quietly. “Especially not to her.”

Frank furrowed his eyes in confusion, but the doctor spoke again before he could question anything.

“Now, it seems that I must reiterate, Frank, that you are fired,” he says. “But do not worry. With your skills, I’m sure you will find a great job at a gas station somewhere.”

The orderly grinds his teeth, but does not say anything. He just stands and leaves the office quietly. Frederick buries his face in his hands once the door in slammed closed. Though the majority of his anger has now passed, he still feels restless and irritable. He calls his assistant and asks her to bring him an extra large coffee, black. 

He had dozens of files on his computer to go through, but he couldn’t focus. His hands were starting to shake and his head was pounding.  _Why am I still so angry?_  He asked himself, but he knew. He knew that this wasn’t just anger, but he couldn’t understand. The way his heart was pounding in his chest… well, the last time that had happened was when he found a half-eaten murderer in his basement. This was not just anger, it was fear.

But why? Why was he so afraid? Being so angry about something like this was already unsettling enough, but this just made everything worse. It’s not like you meant anything to him. You were just a receptionist that he liked to bang. It did not matter to him how much he loved the sounds you made or how you looked up at him when he approached you. It did not matter that he smiled whenever he thought of the faces you make in your pleasure. It did not matter that he had to force himself to treat you the same as he always had when he saw you sitting behind that giant desk, looking so small and delicate, surrounded by electronics and stacks of papers covered with colourful sticky notes with numbers scribbled on them.

No, it did not matter, because you were nothing but an outlet, a way to blow off steam. And all this, all which had been going on between the two of you, meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. And you were nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing to him.

But the thought of you hurt had shaken him to his core. It does not make sense, though, he barely even knows anything about you!

Except he knows that you liked to read because you always wandered towards his bookshelves when you were putting your clothes back on. And that you were close with your family because that was the screensaver on your phone. And that you wrote a lot because you’ve had ink under your nails on many occasions. And he knows you love music because you are always carrying barely held-together headphones around. And that you have nervous habits and good posture and an adventurous attitude.

Frederick took a large sip of his coffee, yelping when it burned his tongue. _Shit._ He takes the lid off the cup and sets it aside to let it cool, and leans into his hand. He closes his eyes and you immediately pop into his head. He imagines the look of fear you must have had on your face when the inmate grabbed you. He has seen you look afraid in front of him before, but you always knew that he would never hurt you. He knows that a lot of the nervousness and fear you portray to him when you’re together has become a charade. You are no longer afraid of him. You just like to let him have the power, which Frederick has always appreciated.

But he does not picture the nervous look you have when you know you are about to have sex. He pictures the look you had from the first time you were alone with him in the solitary confinement chamber, when he had stepped towards you with the anger written across his face until your back was against the wall. You hadn’t known what was about to take place then and that was the only time he had seen you truly afraid. Back then, he had found it appealing, but now he never wants it to cross that beautiful face of yours ever again. He wants you to feel safe, but you obviously don’t if you felt the need to stay at home from work today.

Frederick picks up the coffee, now at a drinkable temperature, and takes a sip. He decides that there is no point to dwell over what happened and that he should really just focus on his work. He opens his laptop and pulls up the first file.


	3. The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit long, but I hope you guys think it's worth it.  
> Please leave comments because comments make me excessively happy.

You have been getting sideways glances all day. The coworkers you are friendly with would come up to you and ask how you are, gently, and you don't mind that, you find their concern reassuring and calming. But the sideways glances were driving you insane. You make a point to glare at the person whenever you catch them looking at you. You are wearing a tank top and blazer over your skirt instead of one of your usual blouses because the sleeves are long and cover your injured arm completely. 

The day, other than the obvious changes in the general staff's behaviour towards you, goes by just the same as any other day, until you get a call from Dr. Chilton late in the morning. You frown when you see on the phone that the call is coming from his office and almost consider not answering at all, but after the fifth ring, you pick up. Chilton lets you know that he wants to see you in his office. As always, he does not say anything more than just that. You definitely do not feel like being tied up or spanked. You don't feel up to doing anything, really, but you figure you might as well go up there. Maybe it'll just be over soon, though you were sort of hoping that he wouldn't call on you today. He is selfish so it really shouldn't surprise you, but you had been hoping he'd give you a break considering.

After dealing with a visitor, you stand and head over towards Chilton's office with your bag draped on your shoulder. You had realized early on that you never really know when he's going to be horny, so you have taken to always having a hairbrush and a fresh pair of panties in your purse just in case. You walk languidly to his office, but are caught off guard when you see both his assistant and his secretary at their desks. He always makes sure they are away when he calls you. 

"Hi, hon," says the secretary, offering you a sympathetic smile. "How you feeling?" 

"Uhm, I'm fine," you say, still slightly confused. "Dr. Chilton asked to see me."

"Go right in," she says. "And don't worry, I'm sure he just wants to make sure you don't sue the hospital."

You nod, frowning slightly, and walk towards the door. You knock once and enter, closing the door behind you. 

Dr. Chilton is sitting on his sofa, leaning his back against one armrest with his legs up and his laptop on his lap. He has his headphones on, but still looks up at you when you enter. His coat is off and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. "Oh, hey," he says, quickly removing his headphones and placing them and his laptop on the table.

"Hi," you reply quietly, edging towards the sofa as he stands. 

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing for you to sit. Leaving your purse by the door, you settle down on the end of the sofa, as far from his place as possible, but he remains standing with his hands in his pockets. Something is  _definitely_ different today. He usually looks more stressed or aggravated when you come to see him, but right now he seems pretty neutral. "Would you like something to drink?" he asks after a short pause.

"No, thank you," you say as passively as you can. He has never offered you a drink before, either. 

"Coffee? Tea?" He asks.

"No," you repeat, shaking your head. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Chilton lets out a short breath. "Alright," he says, sitting down. Neither of you say anything for a moment and the quiet causes you and Chilton to realize that the audio files he was listening to when you walked in were still playing through the headphones. "Oh, sorry," he says awkwardly, reaching out to turn the program off. "Let me just close this and get this stuff out of the way…"

You watch him as he clumsily closes the laptop and gathers the files spread across the table. So it seems that he  _is_ thinking about how you might feel, but despite his efforts to make you comfortable, you still feel a lump in your throat. "Dr. Chilton?" you say.

He doesn't look at you. "Yes?"

You frown slightly. Up until this point, you had never felt the need to reject him, and now, though you thought you could suck it up, you realize you cannot. He will realize why you're saying no and will probably think even lesser of you than he already did, but at the moment, you are just cringing at the thought of what you know he wants. "Is it okay," you say feebly, "If we don't do this?"

Chilton turns to you with furrowed brows. "What do you mean?" he asks.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "Well," you explain hesitantly, "I'm not really in the mood to get fucked right now." You feel like you could have used gentler wording, but despite your despair, you do feel some resentment towards the doctor for being so selfish.

Chilton, however, turns to you in surprise. "That-that's not what I-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, "I just have a lot going through my mind and I don't think I can-"

"I didn't call you in here for that."

You look up at the doctor in surprise. "Oh," you say, not having enough coherent thoughts to say anything else. A heavy awkwardness fills the room and you feel stupid for assuming, but at the same time, what else could you have been called in here for?

"I just wanted to see y- uh, see how you are," Chilton mumbles. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, I'm fine," you answer, rather dryly.

"That's great," he mutters. 

You watch him for a moment as he stares at his hands in his lap. You are looking at his profile, and the cheek you are exposed to is the one intact. You have often imagined what he looked like before that puckered scar in the centre of his cheek distorted his face and made it seem so uneven. You wonder if the way he is acting right now is how he used to behave, before being accused as the Chesapeake Ripper, before being shot and almost killed by a brainwashed victim, before having his entire being consumed with darkness and hatred. 

You might have liked that man. 

"Can…" he says suddenly, turning towards you. "Would it be okay if I have a look?" He gestures to your arm.

"Uhm, sure," you say, shrugging off your blazer. There is no need for him to look at it, you don't have much of an injury, but you offer your wrist to him anyway. 

"Oh, this is nothing," he says quietly as he inspects your arm as he holds it in his hands. "You'll be better in no time." 

You wait, but he does not let go of your arm. Your confusion only grows. His touch is so soft and his hands so gentle on your skin as he runs his thumb over your yellowing bruises. It's such a big contrast between the way he normally likes to touch you.

But it's all a charade, isn't it? You are no longer just a receptionist. You could be considered a threat to his reputation if word got out to the public that you were attacked by an inmate under his watch. His reputation suffered in places even now because of the Abel Gideon incident, so an injury to a receptionist, even one as little as yours, could prove disastrous to his career. 

"I know," you say bitterly, pulling your arm away from him. "It's a little stiff but I write with my other hand so it's not really a problem," you add, not wanting him to worry despite the anger you are feeling towards him. 

Chilton doesn't notice your attitude. How could he? He doesn't even know you. How can you expect him to know what you're feeling?

"That's great," he says, offering a small smile.

"And don't worry, Dr. Chilton. I won't be pressing charges," you mutter.

The smile falls immediately from his face. "That's not-" he stops himself and lets out an exasperated sigh. "You know," he says hesitantly, looking at your chin instead of into your eyes. "You don't have to keep calling me Dr. Chilton. You should just say Frederick."

Your eyes go wide. No. No, no, no. He is not  _Frederick_. He is Dr. Chilton, and that is all you will call him. You are his employee. You are not his friend, you are not his colleague, you are not even his acquaintance, and you are definitely not his girlfrie...

Wait. Was everything that he said to you just now genuine? Did he really just call you up here to make sure you were okay? No agenda, no ulterior motive? Has… has he begun to care for you? 

Your mind rejects the thought but your heart skips a beat. You nod simply at his request, but have no intent in complying. When he says nothing else, you speak up. "So, is that all?" you ask, almost monotonously. 

"Uh, yes," says Chilton, grabbing his cane and moving to stand. "Sorry to keep you from your work. I just was a bit worried-"

"That's fine," you say quickly, draping your blazer over your arm and standing. "I appreciate you checking in."

"It was no problem."

He follows behind you as you begin to head towards the door.

"So, I guess I'll… see you around," Chilton says awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and leaning on his cane.

"Yea," you mumble halfheartedly. You turn to him and see an unreadable expression on his face. You have no clue what is going through his mind. 

He watches you for a moment before stepping forward, putting his free hand to your waist and kissing you. You stiffen underneath the touch. Chilton hadn't kissed you on the mouth since that first time, and that was only to initiate something else. Kissing was not something that you did with Frederick Chilton. Your mind screams, but you stay completely still as he pulls away from you and looks at you with that same torn expression. "Bye," he says simply. 

You do not attempt to conceal any confusion and he seems to notice. "Bye," you say to him, turning to the door. You pick up your purse and reach out to the doorknob, only to freeze when your fingertips graze the brass. You couldn't leave like this. If you left with a kiss, and nothing but a kiss, then your entire relationship with this man would change drastically. It would no longer just be about sex. And you don't know if you are ready for that. 

Dropping your purse and blazer, you move your hand from the knob to the lock, quickly locking the door. You turn to Chilton, grab him by the collar, and kiss him. You force his lips open with yours and push your tongue into his mouth. He succumbs immediately, dropping his cane and grabbing hold of your waist and pulling you to him as you remove his tie and throw it aside before starting to undo the buttons of his shirt. When you are halfway through, he pulls his lips from yours and leans his forehead against yours. Your heavy breaths mingle as you continue to unbutton his shirt, your hands fumbling as you go. You can feel his eyes on your face and you aren't sure why until you have finished and his torso is exposed to you.

The light colour of the scar tissue provides a sharp contrast against the skin of the rest of his stomach.

You realize now that you have never seen him naked. He was always the one to call the shots, to tell you what to do. You've barely even touched him before, and now you are about to see him completely bare. The realization places a heaviness on you and you are tempted to stop and walk away from him, but you are too afraid of what he might do if you leave him like this. He knows so much that he could use against you, and you could never win if you were to go up against Dr. Frederick Chilton. You are just a receptionist, after all.

You look up at his anxious expression. Sighing, you press your lips to his again. He kisses you deeply as you push the shirt off his shoulders and then part our lips briefly to pull your own over your head. You take hold of his shoulders and manoeuvre the both of you towards the couch. On the way, he bumps against the table, but ignores it, pushing you down gently onto the cushions and covering your body with his. You lie, unresponsive and tense against the cushions as he moves his lips from yours to your jaw, placing wet, open mouth kisses down your neck and along your collar bone. Your brain floods with regrets and screams at you to push him away, but you could barely hear it over the pounding of your heart so loud in your chest. You are sure that he feels it.

He unclasps your bra and pulls it off you, sighing at the trail of goosebumps his touch leaves on your skin before moving his hands to your skirt. He pulls your skirt and underwear off you slowly, removing your shoes as well until you are lying completely naked against the cold leather of the cushions. He watches you for a moment, your furrowed brows, your closed eyes, and your heaving chest. You are clutching at the cushions, waiting for him. After a moment, you open your eyes only to see him looking down at you attentively. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asks you gently. "You didn't want to at all when you first came in."

You hesitate for a moment before nodding your consent and pulling at his pants, against which his erection was already straining. You push his pants down as far as you can, then push them down all the way with your feet. Chilton kicks off his shoes and his pants and lowers his face down to kiss you. You feel his dick push against your inner thigh, but he doesn't thrust. He just kisses you until you are breathless, his hands kneading your breasts. 

Your hands move to the skin of his back, caressing him gently and you marvel at how it feels to actually be able to touch him like this. He moves one hand from your breast to your clit and rubs gentle circles. You gasp against his lips and rock your hips to the movement, grinding gently as he slowly picks up speed. Soon, you are panting and moaning at his touch as he continues to kiss and suck on your lips. You clutch at his skin and spread your legs wide underneath him, gasping at the feel of his fingers against you. All your inner protests have quieted and you can only focus on his ministrations. He keeps increasing his pace and beads of sweat break out onto your forehead as your skin flushes. He murmurs your name and your eyes shoot open. You had never heard him say your name like that before and it sends shivers up your spine. 

Chilton pulls his mouth away from yours, but keeps his face close. He looks into your eyes as he guides his cock to your entrance, running the head along your slit before thrusting in. Your mouth falls open as you are completely filled up with him. He pulls out and thrusts into you again, biting his lips as he watches you. You whimper and thrust your hips upwards towards him, silently begging him to pick up speed. 

He gets the message immediately. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and increases his pace as his continues to rub your clit. He thrusts harder and harder against you and you bring your legs up to wrap around his waist. He groans as you use your ankles to push him in even deeper. He starts pushing in deeper and faster until you're gasping at his every entrance, your nails digging into his back as he slams into you. You whimper and gasp at his hips crashing against yours and his hand, now resting on your stomach. He wraps his other hand in your hair and pulls back to look at you as he fucks you. His lips are parted and his breathing is heavy. He looks at you with an unwavering gaze and you feel lightheaded from all of his attention. 

This is not at all what you are used to. 

You lean up and kiss him, not trusting his gaze, and he kisses you so deeply that the butterflies that had already been fluttering around your stomach multiply by a hundredfold. You moan against his lips as his thrusts become shorter and faster and your thighs tremble underneath him. You feel him so full and thick inside you, and you can't help but whimper his name against his lips.

He sighs your name back and pushes deeper into you. You tense up, starting to feel that pressure in your lower stomach. You bite at Chilton's lips as you grind harder against him. He moans, realizing that you are close, and keeps thrusting until you come around his cock, your cunt clenching and your legs trembling. You gasp and mewl and arch your back as you clutch desperately at his skin. Your orgasm completely takes over you as you squeeze your eyes shut, the wave of pleasure crashing through you, spreading out from your centre towards every single part of your body as Chilton keeps still inside of you. You hear his groans as you clench and grind your hips against him as you ride out the orgasm.

When it's over, you fall limp against the sofa. Chilton pulls out of you and you groan quietly. He looks down at you appreciatively, watching your glistening skin, your wet lips, your open mouth, your heaving chest. You open your eyes slowly and blush when you see the way he looks at you. "Keep going," you whisper. 

He lets out an exhale as he thrusts into you again, hard. He doesn't take the time to build up his speed now and you cry out as he starts pounding you against the cushions. He wraps his arms around your waist and sits, pulling you up with him. He leans against the armrest, half laying down as he continues to thrust into you. You groan because of how sensitive you are, but you can't help but match his intoxicating rhythm. He grunts and groans and watches you as you place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as he thrusts into you. He places his hands on your hips to guide your movements and you let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes are closed, your mouth hanging open, and your breaths short. Chilton bites his lips as he stares at you, loving the way you look right now.

"Oh, god!" You cry as you feel yourself starting to build up to another orgasm. You grab at his hair and gasp over and over until you feel the pressure released and rocking your body. You pull him to you, clutching his head to your chest as you ride out your orgasm. Chilton groans at your spasming cunt against his cock and his thrusts become erratic. He keeps fucking you mercilessly through your climax until he comes inside of you. You shudder as you feel his thick load fill you up as your legs shake. He moans your name, but you barely hear it over your own pulse in your ears. He kisses your chest gently until you recover and move away from him. He pulls out slowly. The two of you sit on the sofa next to each other, yours and his heavy breaths completely filling the room. 

This was nothing like you had done before. This was so completely different that you doubt things would return to the way they were, though you wish they would because that was simple, easy. 

This seemed like it would be complicated. 

You are the first to stand. Your legs are shaky, but force yourself up anyway. You dress yourself with trembling hands, having trouble getting the clasp of your bra to close. 

"Let me help you with that-" says Chilton, but you push him away.

"I'm fine," you whisper, stepping away from him. You finish with your bra and pull on your skirt and top, not looking at him as he begins to dress himself as well. When you are finished putting your clothes and shoes back on, you head quickly towards to the door.

"Wait," he calls. 

You pause, looking down. You see his cane on the floor and pick it up. "Here," you say, turning to him and handing him the cane. 

"Thank you," he says, taking it from you. "Listen, I-"

"Dr. Chilton, can we finish this later?" you ask. "I've been in here for awhile and I really need to get back to work." 

Chilton's shoulders drop as he nods once. It wasn't an outright rejection, but it sure felt like one. "Alright," he says, clearing his throat. "I'll see you around, then."

You nod, grab your blazer and purse, and turn quickly towards the door, deciding that you will fix yourself up in the bathroom. You don't think you could stand to be alone with him for a second longer without bursting at the seams. It pained you to look at him, especially now that he has those big eyes of his cast down in sorrow. You have no idea what is going to happen now but all you know is that fucking him like this had only made things much more complicated than the kiss would have. You want to smack yourself over the head. 

Silently cursing yourself, you push open the door to rush out of the office and freeze when two pairs of eyes stare at you. The secretary and the assistant look at you with bemused expressions. You had completely forgotten that they were there. 

Fuck.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" asked the secretary.

The assistant snickers. "I'm fine," you squeal, your face burning. You sling away without another word. 

Things are  _definitely_ going to change after this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, it's that wonderful time of year when one goes back to school. I am sure I'll be able to update this relatively quickly, but I can't make any promises! Hope you liked the first chapter!


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